by Tammy Turner
“Don’t leave me,” she quavered, shuddering and grasping at his shoulder. Her wild eyes blazed in the candlelight. Shouldering her weight, he helped her across the slick tile floor. Reaching the study, he sat her down in the leather chair. June sank into the deep cushions.
The dry kindling in the hearth caught fire fast as Ian struck a match against the brick fireplace and tossed it on the wood. Staring into the raging flames, June motioned for Ian to come closer.
“My brother spoke to me tonight,” she told Ian.
“I believe you,” he said, taking her hand, and they sat in silence a moment.
“The old one in the woods,” he said finally, nodding.
“Joseph told me about her. He believed her to be evil long before you ever recognized it.”
“But she was our nanny—mine and Joseph’s,” June insisted.
“I know, June,” Ian acknowledged, checking her wound beneath the wet rag she held against her calf. “But your father Charles betrayed her.”
“Why did he do that?” June lamented. “How could he have done such a thing? It was an innocent baby. How could he have taken the child away from her, as if it were nothing to her?”
Her shoulders shook as she sobbed.
“Your brother knew that she had cursed the family because of Charles,” Ian said, turning to the fire. “He spoke of it sometimes when we were alone on patrol in the woods.”
June raised her head and wiped a trail of tears from her cheek. “When you met him in that Allied camp during the war, did he tell you about me?”
“Of course,” said Ian. “And you are just as beautiful now as when he described you those many years ago.”
“Why did you never marry, Ian?” she asked.
“I promised Joey I would look after you if something ever happened to him,” he said, his gray eyes pleading for understanding.
“Did he ever show you his diary?” she asked, meeting his gaze.
Ian turned his eyes to the flames in the fireplace. “Yes,”
he murmured. “Though I wish he never had.”
“Alexandra took it when she was here,” June confessed.
“My God,” Ian said, coughing. “She doesn’t know what she has done.”
“What did he see in that cave, Ian? What secret did he know that Jasmine would hurt anyone for, after all this time?” she pleaded.
“He never showed you?” Ian asked, dabbing a tear from her eye with the handkerchief stowed in his shirt pocket.
“His soul died before he returned to me,” she said. “He could show me nothing except the terror in his eyes when he spoke of his time away during the war. He was not my brother any longer, just a shell of the brother I knew and loved.” June held her hands out to him. “Now tell me, Ian.
I beg you, for my granddaughter’s sake. What did Joseph see?”
“Damnation,” he declared, turning to the fire. “And resurrection. He told me that the beast spoke to him like a man, but spat fire from his gut like a dragon. When your brother stumbled upon him hiding in the cave, the beast begged for Joseph to slay him and end his immortal curse.
The creature ripped the rifle from Joseph’s hands and pointed the gun at his own chest. But instead of killing him, the bullet melted into his skin, dissolving into the flesh.”
“And he saw this beast more than once?” June gulped, staring at Ian in disbelief. “Did you ever see it? Did he take you to the cave?”
“I never saw the beast,” Ian told her. “But Joseph returned to him, to speak with him. Joseph called him a time-walker, and he said that he had seen a drop of the creature’s blood raise a wilting flower to full bloom before his eyes.”
“I never knew,” June’s voice wavered.
“He was the never the same after that, June. The things he saw men do to each other during that war, so long
ago,” Ian said, shaking his head. “None of us were ever the same. But Joseph never got over what he saw in the cave, if he really did see . . .”
“You doubt my brother about this secret he entrusted to you?” she said defensively.
June raised her wobbly legs from the chair and dragged her body across the fire-lit room to her wooden desk. Sliding open a bottom drawer, her fingers wrapped themselves around cold metal.
June rubbed her shirttail along the barrel of the pearl-handled revolver. “Well,” she said, “even if you doubt Joey, that witch in the woods believes him, and she will hunt that book to the ends of the earth to find my brother’s secret, to know the devil’s face.”
“What do you think you are going to do with that gun?” Ian asked, raising himself from the fireplace hearth.
“Joseph gave it to me,” June told him, cradling the gun in her lap. “He wanted me to keep his things safe for him while he was gone.”
“You have, June,” Ian said, slipping the gun from her fingers. “You have kept all of his things safe, and Alexandra will keep the book safe,” he told her, stroking her silver hair as she laid her head against him and sobbed.
12
Fallen
The pounding of the creature’s heart hummed in Alexandra’s ears as she held her cheek to his chest, not wanting to let go. Growing louder, it rang in her head.
Her eyes stayed closed until she could no longer bear the sound. When her eyes popped open, she stared at the lit-up, red pulsing digits of her alarm clock.
“Here we go again,” she grunted and threw the blanket off her legs.
Stumbling groggily to the bathroom, she peeled off her clothes. She’d fallen asleep in her tee and jeans. Her clothes were soaked with sweat, and she tossed them into the hamper in the bathroom. Her nose twitched at the faint smell of smoke.
“Nasty cigarettes,” she muttered.
In the steaming shower, the torrents of hot water wrapped themselves like tight tendrils around her body.
Closing her eyes, she held her face to the shower spray and let the water pour over her head. The migraine had eased over the night, and she suddenly remembered her dream. She recalled how it felt when the creature had held her body tight in his grasp.
What was he?
Turning the faucet off, Alexandra stepped from the shower stall, wrapped a towel around her body, and heard her bedroom door creak open.
It was Jack, running from her mother.
“Jack! Come here, boy,” her mom called into the bedroom, shaking the dog’s leash. Alexandra peeked out from behind her bathroom door while her mother rolled Jack off the bed.
With Jack gone for his morning walk, Alexandra left the bathroom door cracked open and wiped the steam from the mirror. Her green eyes peeked reluctantly from behind her drooping eyelids, and patches of brown freckles swallowed the tops of her pale cheeks.
Her thoughts shifted to Benjamin as she brushed a stroke of loose powder across her nose. She remembered how Benjamin had noticed her freckles when they first met. Had he been flirting with me?
With a few flicks of mascara and a swipe of red lip balm, she had finished all the attempts at girlishness for which she had any patience.
At her walk-in closet, Alexandra unhooked a plaid skirt from its hanger. Her bedroom door creaked open again, and Jack strolled back into the room. Climbing on the bed, he snuggled down into the blankets and waited patiently for everyone to leave for the day.
“I’m leaving for work now,” her mother said as she peeked inside the bedroom. “Are you okay, Alexandra?
Did you get enough sleep?”
“I’m fine, Mom,” Alexandra called to her mother from the closet.
“Love you, babe! Call me when you get home,” said her mother before she turned from the doorway.
Alexandra listened for her mother’s keys rattling in the front door lock. Once she heard that sound, she debated whether to crawl back into bed and hide under the covers with Jack for the rest of the day. But Benjamin’s face eased
into her thoughts. With her decision made, she slipped on black Mary Janes.
Aft
er getting her shirt tucked and blazer buttoned, Alexandra grabbed her book bag from her bedroom floor.
“Once again running late,” she announced, glancing at the clock. Lifting the pillow Jack’s head was underneath, she patted him goodbye. It was then that she noticed her uncle’s journal lying on the bed. “I’ve got to show this to Taylor,” Alexandra told Jack and threw the book inside her bag before she rushed to the front door.
In the parking garage, her hair, still wet, clung to her face. She sprinted to her Jeep. I hope Benjamin thinks that frizzy hair is as cute as freckles, she thought, rolling down her window to let her hair dry in the breeze on the ride to campus.
The morning traffic inched maddeningly through the downtown streets. Slowly Alexandra made her way toward campus. Ahead of her was an SUV large enough for its own zip code. She knew that she was probably following too close to its bumper. She heard her skirt pocket ring and drew out her phone to look at the call screen. She hesitated, but finally answered the unknown number.
“Hello?” she asked, holding the phone to her ear with one hand as she gripped the steering wheel with the other hand.
“Alex?” a male voice inquired.
“Maybe. Who is this?” she asked.
“Ben.”
Sweat suddenly rose under her collar.
“Well hi,” she stuttered back.
“Are you on campus yet? I need to talk to you about something,” Benjamin said as Alexandra’s car sputtered under the hood.
“Um, no,” she said. “How did you get this number?”
“I have my ways,” he laughed.
Alexandra sat speechless, praying that her car would not die in the middle of the road.
“Hello?” Benjamin said. “Are you there?”
“I think something is wrong with my car,” she said.
“It’s making a funny noise.”
“Let me hear,” he said. “Hold your phone out the window.”
Biting her lip, Alexandra complied as she idled at a red light.
“Are you near a gas station?” Benjamin asked her when she pulled the phone back to her ear.
“Yeah,” she said flipping on her turn signal and smiling at the driver behind her in the next lane.
“Sounds like you need some gas,” he suggested.
Alexandra stared at the fuel gauge. Sure enough, the needle pointed to empty.
“Thanks,” she said, pulling up to an empty gas pump.
“That’s quite a talent.”
“No problem,” he said.
She could hear the Drake Hall bell tower ring through the phone.
“You’re going to be late,” he advised her.
“I know,” she said dryly, shoving the gas cap back in place. “Save me a spot in German class, okay? ’Bye.” She climbed into the driver’s seat and flipped the phone shut.
Squealing into the student parking lot, Alexandra searched for Taylor’s silver Mercedes. Guess I’m not the only one who is late today, she thought, luckily finding an empty parking spot.
Panting as she dashed through the halls, Alexandra eased into homeroom. Mr. Johnson was running through roll call.
“Jessica Martin?” he called and checked her name off of his list when her hand raised in the back of the classroom.
“Alexandra Peyton?” he continued, looking down at her over the glasses perched on the end of his nose.
“Here,” she squeaked.
“Mike Rivers?”
“Yo, coach,” the quarterback called from behind Alexandra.
“Taylor Woodward?” Mr. Johnson called. Alexandra looked around the room. “Taylor Woodward?” he repeated and stared at Alexandra. She shrugged her shoulders.
When the bell dismissed homeroom for first period, Alexandra ducked into the restroom and dialed Taylor’s cell. Voice mail answered. “Where are you?” she barked to the recorder.
The bell rang. She shoved the phone back into her book bag. She ran across the quad to Mitchell Hall, hoping Benjamin had heard from Taylor, and scooted into German class. Benjamin was there and picked up his book bag from the desk that he had saved for her next to the window.
“Taylor wasn’t in homeroom,” Alexandra told Benjamin. “She isn’t answering her cell, either.”
He took off his blazer and rolled his sleeves up over his elbows. Alexandra approved of his tanned, brown arms.
“I’m sure she’s fine, Alex,” he told her. “Maybe she just overslept. She was out late. Don’t panic.”
“How do you know Taylor was out late? Were you with her?” Alexandra asked, biting her lip, as Frau Stunkhaus closed the classroom door.
“She came by my house,” he said, leaning closer.
“Oh, I see,” Alexandra said, removing her textbook from her book bag.
“It’s not like that, Alex! She pulled up in the driveway.
We’ve got this huge security gate around the yard, so she had to stop right there until I answered the intercom,” he whispered. “It was almost midnight and my mom was freaking out. So I went outside to talk to her. She was crying and said that her stepmother is crazy.”
Alexandra nodded her head and sucked in a deep breath. “What then?” she asked.
“She tried to kiss me, and I told her I have a girlfriend in California,” he said.
“Oh,” Alexandra said, her heart sinking.
“But I don’t,” he said, shaking his head.
This fact brightened Alexandra’s countenance considerably.
“Her stepmother is psycho,” Alexandra told him. “I wish Taylor would call me.”
At the front of the room, Frau Stunkhaus answered a knock on the door. Dr. Sullivan motioned for her to step outside into the hallway.
“Hey,” Benjamin said to Alexandra as he leaned over the aisle between them. “Guess who I got for homeroom?”
Alexandra shrugged her shoulders.
“Callahan,” he said, and Alexandra cringed. Leaning closer, Benjamin whispered, “You should have seen him this morning. That dude must have gotten wasted last night. He had these really dark circles under his eyes, and I swear he’s wearing the same clothes he had on yesterday.
He didn’t even take roll. He just passed around a piece of paper and told us to write our names on it, while he kicked back at his desk with his feet up and his hands behind his head. I kid you not, he started to snore. Woke up only when the bell rang.”
“Achtung!” Frau Stunkhaus declared, walking back into her classroom while Alexandra tried to concentrate on the first page of vocabulary in her textbook.
When the bell rang forty-five minutes later, Alexandra asked, “Will I see you at lunch?”
“Maybe,” he said, winking at her as he left her in the classroom doorway. “I don’t want to be late for PE!” he called back to her while he hurried down the hallway.
Walking alone to calculus, Alexandra felt her cell phone vibrate inside her book bag. Finally, a text message from Taylor! She read it as she took her seat in the back of the class.
Hey Girl. OMG. What a night. See you at lunch. XOXO.
Relieved for the news, she turned off the phone until the end of psychology class, a few long hours later. Walking to the cafeteria, Alexandra expected Taylor to be already waiting for her; but the tall blonde was still a no-show.
Grabbing an empty plastic lunch tray, Alexandra joined the line for chicken fingers and fries. Panic and hunger rumbled in her gut.
The heaping tray wobbled when she walked outside into the quad with her lunch. Wolfing down the food on her plate, she sat alone at the table, feeling a bit abandoned.
Then she laughed to herself: Taylor and I might not be much alike, but we belong together like French fries and ketchup.
“Hey, Alexandra,” shouted Courtney from the table behind her. “Where’s Taylor? Why don’t you sit with us?”
Michelle held up a magazine in the air and said, “Come on, Alex. We’re taking a quiz about what celebrity we would date if . . .” she said, her voice tr
ailing off.
“Hey, Alex, sorry I’m late.” Alexandra’s ears pricked
up at the sound of Benjamin’s approaching voice. He sat down on the bench beside her.
“No lunch?” she asked casually.
“I forgot my wallet,” Benjamin confessed and glanced around the crowded quad. “Where’s Taylor?”
Alexandra shrugged her shoulders as she wiped her mouth with a napkin and pushed the tray of food toward Benjamin. “I’m starting to get worried about her.”
“I guess I was hungrier than I thought.” He finished off the fries and started on what was left of the chicken fingers. “She’s a big girl. Don’t panic yet,” he said.
“She sent me a text that she would be here at lunch.”
Alexandra pulled her cell from her book bag and showed him the message.
“Taylor reminds me of my mom,” he said, shaking his head. “They are both overly dramatic. Except my mom gets paid to act that way.” He put the phone back in her hand.
“So having a famous mom is not all it’s cracked up to be?” Alexandra asked.
“No,” he said, watching her start to chew on her thumbnail. “Hey, don’t do that,” Benjamin admonished her and playfully pushed her thumb from her mouth.
“Sorry,” Alexandra said, blushing, her nervous fingers fiddling with the medallion around her neck.
“Where did you get that?” he asked, staring at her necklace.
“You asked me that yesterday, Ben. It was a gift,” she explained, taking it off to show him the figure carved into the bronze.
“You’re not going to believe this, but this morning in homeroom, Callahan was wearing a ring with a dragon on it that looked almost exactly like yours,” Ben told her.
She began to pull her hair to the side of her neck. “Let me help you with that,” he said, taking the ends of the leather string from her fingers.
Sweat pooled under her collar as Benjamin secured the necklace. “I forgot about that,” he said tracing the outline of her birthmark lightly with the tips of his fingers.
“Thanks,” she stuttered and let her hair fall down her back.
“So what’s next?” Benjamin said, stretching his arms as he yawned wide.